Ramblings 
of  a 
Pen 


OF  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIF~T 


Ramblings  of  a  Pen 


Selections  from  the  Writings 


OF 


WM.  N.  HOLWAY 


OF  THE 

l/NIVERSITY 

OF 


1904 

Ford  Smith  &  Little  Co.,  Printers 
Los  Angeles,  Cal. 


A  (gift 

TjThe  thought  that  prompts  a  gift  is 
the  true  measure  of  its  value* 
But  who  can  measure  the  unseen, 
unspoken  thought  of  another  ?  A 
thought  ?  It  is  etched  on  the  pages  of 
the  mind,  oft  hidden  beneath  the  worn 
covers  of  daily  care,  and  fastened  with 
the  rusty  clasp  of  time*  Yet  the  kindly 
remembrance  of  friends  unclasps  the 
volume,  and  thought  flashes  through 
space  to  our  own  stations  on  the  cir- 
cuit of  life* 


AH  mtemnrg  Surna  iJf? 

fhen  we  turn  an  introspective  eye 
over  the  pages  of  the  volume 
our  experience  is  editing,  we  find,  not 
material  things,  but  an  unselfish  deed, 
the  sincere  praise  of  a  friend,  a  sacri- 
fice one  for  another,  the  inspiring  con- 
tact of  human  souls,  the  love  and  con- 
fidence and  trust,  all  these  light  the 
record  as  memory  turns  the  leaves, 

(3) 

1278 


Seal 

TTfhe  wages  of  truth  is  friendship,  and 

a  friend  is  an  anchor  of  life* 

But  in  the  nature  of  things,  there 

are  but  few  real  friends  to  whom  we 

reveal  the  inner  sanctuary  of  the  heart, 

—who  know  us  as  we  are — who  so 

love    and    trust,    that  when  stormy 

winds  and  tempestuous  seas  assail  us, 

still  clearly  discern  the  compass  of  our 

soul,  pointing  to  the   north  star   of 

right* 


A 


ODur 

s  long  as  Hope  uplifts  the  human 
heart,  mankind  will  strive  for 
the  fleeting  prize  of  material  success* 
Some  gain  it,  and  any  success  that 
makes  character  stronger  and  better, 
is  a  worthy  achievement,  a  sturdy 
mile  post  of  progress* 

But  when  we  look  over  the  vanished 
years,  what  have  we  retained  that 
adds  to  our  sum  of  happiness  and 

(4) 


content?  Material  advantages  are 
often  strong  and  worthy  factors,  yet 
fade  away  and  are  gone,  as  thought 
turns  the  pages  of  our  book  of  life,  in 
search  of  our  real  being's  garnered 
treasures* 

Yes,  away  back  on  the  first  pages, 
there  is  a  young  mother's  love  and 
pride,  and  later  an  aged  mother's 
blessing  for  tender  care  in  her  evening 
of  life*  There  is  the  faith  and  unfalter- 
ing trust  of  woman — the  love  and  con- 
fidence of  children's  joyous  life,  en- 
obling  your  own ;  the  trust  and  esteem 
of  friends  to  whom  you  gave  of  your 
best;  the  overcoming  of  extreme  diffi- 
culties and  the  ultimate  triumph  of 
right  and  the  ringing  echo  of  the  silent 
"well  done"  of  conscience*  Yes,  all 
in  all,  love,  faith  and  trust — these  are 
the  gems  that  shine  from  our  store- 
house when  memory  draws  the  cur- 
tain, and  all  that  was  worth  saving  in 
our  Yesterdays,  smiles  upon  us  as  a 
living  possession  of  To-Day. 

(5) 


An  lEtetttttg  bg  Jh? 

/7j(  am  swinging  gently  in  a  restful 
hammock,  in  a  cottage  by  the 
sea,  swinging  gently,  for  all  nature 
seems  in  its  gentlest,  sweetest  mood* 
The  sun  descending  behind  the 
mountains  has  kissed  the  sky  a  warm 
good  night,  and  the  clouds  blush  in 
rosyhued  delight*  The  sea  is  calm 
and  smooth,  and  the  long,  low  swell 
of  the  ebbing  tide  falls  with  soothing, 
rythmic  sound,  as  if  caressing  the 
sandy  beach  to  make  amends  for 
some  angry  mood  of  the  past. 

One's  soul  reaches  out  in  sympa- 
thetic response  to  nature's  peaceful 
moods,  the  best  within  us,  the  deepest 
emotions,  the  noblest  thought — 'tis 
but  the  voice,  the  soul  of  nature 
through  us  finding  expression* 

Verily,  we  tread  the  shore  of  the 
great  sea  and  drink  in  the  fragrant  air 
that  comes  sweeping  across  the  wide 
expanse,  untainted  of  the  earth,  fresh 
from  nature's  store-house;  so,  too, 

(6) 


we  tread  the  shore  of  life's  great  sea 
and  each  deed  of  love,  each  act  of 
kindness,  all  that's  sweet  and  pure 
and  true  in  life,  is  the  breath  from 
nature's  other  world  across  the  sea* 


Slf*  g>0ul  nf  Nature 

we  behold  the  light  that  oft 
has  obscured  the  wondrous  rela- 
tionship between  the  soul  of  man  and 
the  life  of  the  universal  creator  —  that 
which  smiles  in  the  glad  sunshine, 
lives  in  the  tiny  flower,  paints  the  sky 
above  the  sundown  sea  in  colors 
beyond  the  dream  of  the  human  mind, 
that  draws  our  echoing  sigh  in  the 
moan  of  the  sobbing  sea,  that  lulls  us 
to  rest  by  the  music  of  the  ebbing  tide, 
or  inspires  to  nobler  moods  in  the 
grandeur  of  the  storm*  We  recall 
sharply  our  little  intermittent  periods 
of  longing  when  our  lame  and  halting 
verse  of  life  seemed  almost  shaping 

(7) 


itself  into  poetic  measure,  that  here  — 
and  now  —  inhaling  the  sweet  breath 
from  across  the  sea,  we  find  our 
delightful,  musical,  perfecting  rhyme* 


/TThe  charm  of  life  is  the  individuality 
of  the  soul,  the  personality  stand- 
ing out  clearly  against  the  common 
back  ground  ;  and  the  sacred  obligation 
is  ours,  that  every  noble  ideal  be  culti- 
vated and  developed  to  its  higher 
destiny,  that  the  full  power  of  the  inner 
life  speed  in  its  flight  every  inspiring 
thought  found  beating  its  wings  against 
the  wall  of  circumstance,  longing  for 
freedom  in  the  growth  of  selfhood* 

We  are  often  at  a  loss  to  comprehend 
the  musical  voices  that  are  borne  on 
the  silent  breezes,  wafted  over  our 
unknown  sea  of  destiny,  stirring  the 
heart  with  the  infinite  joy  of  hope, 
awakening  the  soul  to  a  consciousness 

(8) 


Xv  o* 

(**** 


of  an  inherent  power,  that  beckons  us 
forward  into  the  fullness  of  life* 

The  infinite,  unerring  desires  of  the 
soul,  the  voiceless  impressions  that 
flash  along  the  lines  that  connect  our 
life  with  its  source,  these  should  be 
our  guide. 


IKttflhm,  %  Jlttktuihm  ani  3. 


fe  are  a  congenial  set,  the  known, 
the  unknown  and  L  The 
Known,  the  few  choice  spirits  who 
read  the  compass  of  my  soul  aright, 
with  whom  I  love  to  share  what  life 
bestows  ;  and  the  Unknown,  who  peep 
out  the  covers  of  delightful  books,  their 
personality  in  pleasing  accord  with  my 
own,  saying  my  says  and  thinking  my 
thoughts,  as  I  pat  them  approvingly 
on  the  back* 

Blessed  are  the  Known  and   Un- 
known that  agree  with  us. 

(9) 


Instinctively  we  exhibit  our  beautiful 
pictures  to  those  in  whose  souls  we 
behold  their  reflection. 

We  open  our  garden  of  roses  and 
the  choicest  belong  of  right  to  the  one 
who  loves  them  most  ;  and  the  beauty 
of  the  rose  and  the  soul  of  its  lovert 
verily,  we  behold  the  one  in  the  other. 

Our  musical  instruments  ornament 
our  rooms,  but  he  in  whom  dwells 
the  soul  of  music,  enters—  we  own 
them  not,  they  are  his. 


3mu>r 


3t  is  pleasant  to  think  that  the  real 
comrades  of  life,  the    congenial 
ones  whose  personality  fits  so  comfort- 
ably   into    our    own,  have    each  a 
distinct  place,  an  inner  nook  in  our 
hearts,   where    kind    words,    gentle 
deeds,  the  love  and  confidence  of  all 
the  fleeting  years,  have  builded  an 
altar  unto  a  friend.    Here    thought 


(10) 


speeds  joyously  in  many  a  busy  hour, 
or  careworn  day,  communing  with 
treasures  that  are  more  than  memories, 
that  renew  the  spirit  of  human  faith, 
and  add  to  the  measure  of  human 
courage* 


Appmialuitu 

Tj/lnd  words  of  praise,  sincere  appre- 
ciation  of  that  one  does,  is  the 
unseen  gem  in  the  crown  of  the  soul's 
achievement;  one  loves  to  look  at  this 
harmless  jewel  of  the  inner  life,  not 
vainly,  but  that  its  radiance  may  light 
the  pathway  with  its  good  cheer* 


/TThe  beautiful  spirit  draws  from  the 
soul  of  nature  the  beauty,  grace 
and  loveliness  which  come  again  to 
us  in  the  poem  —  the  picture  —  in  every 
realm  of  creative  art  —  in  every  good 
impulse,  worthy  aim  or  noble  deed. 


The  inspiration  of  a  great  poem,  the 
power  of  a  great  painting,  the  beauty 
of  the  sculptured  marble,  are  but  the 
materialized  form  of  the  individual 
soul  that  created  them. 


It  is  only  by  rising  on  the  stepping 
stones  of  our  failures,  that  we  can 
carve  from  the  cold  marble  of  existence, 
the  warm,  living  statue  of  our  own 
destiny* 


The  soul's  unsatisfied  desires  are 
but  the  pleading  voice  of  the  spirit,  to 
unfold  as  the  rose,  and  become,  not 
what  others  plan  for  us,  but  whatever 
our  power  for  growth  entitles  us  to 
become* 


Each  flower  lives  its  to-day,  sheds 
its  petals  of  beauty,  and  is  gone, 
leaving  only  a  fragrance  of  yesterday* 

(12) 


Each  soul  that  lives  a  pure  and 
joyous  to-day,  sends  its  radiance  into 
other  lives,  builds  yesterdays  of  fra- 
grant memory,  and  makes  glad  all  the 
to-morrows  of  life* 


©nig  a  f  atrff. 

fhen  we  meet  one  whom  time  has 
long  parted  from  us,  memory 
leaps  the  abyss  of  the  years,  but  each 
feels  the  shock  of  the  change  time  has 
wrought  in  the  other*  Slowly  we 
take  up  the  threads  and  patch  the  gap 
between  past  and  present,  but  it  is  ever 
a  patch,  as  we  strive  to  reveal  to  one 
another  what  experience  has  stamped 
on  the  soul,  in  the  absent  years*  We 
mend  and  mend,  until  the  threads  are 
interwoven  into  a  tangible  something 
upon  which  we  journey  back  and  forth 
between  yesterday  and  to-day,  but  it 
is  only  a  patch* 

(13) 


/TThere,  too,  are  the  self-sufficient 
kind,  ever  contented  with  their 
own  wondrous  personality,  patting 
themselves  approvingly  on  the  back 
for  exercise,  and  shaking  hands  with 
themselves  for  company* 


44  We  pick  a  fellow  creature  to  pieces 
with  a  keen  edge  of  albeit  good- 
natured  satire,  and  then,  if  time  per- 
mits, paste  the  remnants  together  with 
belated  praise*  " 


44  Criticism  in  an  automobile  leads 
the  procession,  but  praise  in  a  lumber 
wagon  brings  up  the  rear," 


'here  are  rare  and  ideal  moments 
in  life,  moments  when  the  soul 
is    attuned  to   breathe    its    sweetest 

(14) 


melodies,  by  the  touch  of  the  master 
hand  on  the  invisible  chords  that  link 
our  life  with  the  Divine*  These 
moments  are  sacred  to  each  life ;  the 
culmination  of  the  silent  longings  of 
the  vanished  years,  the  crucial  points 
in  ambition — hope — love — when  the 
soul  looking  upward  beholds  the  light 
gleaming  through  the  darkness,  and 
unspoken  thought  voices  our  deepest 
emotion* 

Tho'  we  smile  again  or  sigh  again, 
as  the  shadowy  substance  of  a  by-gone 
hour  comes  into  view,  a  moment,  an 
emotion,  an  impulse,  is  not  born  anew. 

True,  they  are  graven  on  the 
tablets  of  experience  that  have  builded 
the  yesterdays  of  life,  they  linger  in 
the  deep  recesses  of  the  heart*  Turn 
to  an  old  letter  with  a  faded  flower,  a 
face  from  out  the  distant  past,  a  voice 
that  touches  chords  long  silent,  a 
flash  of  memory's  search-light — and 
we  are  apart  of  other  days*  But  it  is 

(15) 


for  an  instant,  faintly  the  mists  fade 
away,  slowly  the  hands  move  forward 
on  the  dial  of  time,  and  we  return  to 
the  living  present — an  emotion,  and 
impulse  to  do,  we  recall  but  we  can 
not  re-live. 


(16) 


Syrac- 
Stc 


IARF 

OF  THE 

UNF 

OF 


